


The Man in his Castle

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2019)
Genre: 1960s AU, AU, Auction, Charles Blackwood - Freeform, Dark fic, F/M, dark!charles blackwood, dark!fic, noncon, wild and crazy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: A co-ed discovers that money is still king.Warnings: noncon sex. Let’s not be fools here. You know what I write.This is dark!Charles Blackwood and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Relationships: Charles Blackwood/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 109





	The Man in his Castle

**Author's Note:**

> Charles is fun because he’s already horrible. I know my summary sucks but I hope you all enjoy this. It takes place in the 1960s so keep that in mind and enjoy! But let me know what you think in the comments and leave a kudos if you like <3

There were more than a dozen girls squeezed into the windowless classroom in the basement of Victory Hall. The book club had grown quite a bit since your first week on campus. The Brownies, you called yourself. An ironic play upon a lifetime of ridicule.

Every Friday night you met in some abandoned room bartered off the registrar and set to discussing your most recent read. Sheila was the leader; bolder than you as she fostered your sprout of an idea. She was cooler, calmer, and by all means, more radical. And she was a senior.

The flock of freshmen looked up to her and the few other older girls in the group. She had brought along with her, Linda and Patty; the former with her stiff turtlenecks and the latter her faded beret. These were the types your mother had warned you against. Peddling their liberalism in the name of Kennedy and Kruschev.

That week, your group had chosen Miller’s famed play, The Crucible; still relevant despite a decade past. Though the red scare had faded to orange, there was still a breath of suspicion in the air. As people marched in the streets and sat-in at diners and cafes, the old breed was growing nervous. The world was about to change, with or without them.

You sat amid the circle with your worn copy against your knee. You took turns reading the lines and pausing to discuss the intricate and yet overt allusions made by the playwright. The furor of the blacklist which still lingered in the air. A paranoia much broader than years before. No longer just the Reds, but all who spoke of equality and freedom; no longer exclusive to a single group. The same tensions which kept you in the basement with the dingy old desks.

You couldn’t help but smile at the group of girls. When you’d arrived on campus, you were certain you’d be the same loner as before. Solitary nights spent barricaded in your dorm only to lose yourself in the crowd of the lecture hall. 

But Sheila had changed that. She was in your elective Lit class, filling a void in her audit so that she could graduate on time. You had lost yourself in a discussion of Marx and the mounting tensions with the East; not that they ever really subsided. 

Then she invited you to meet Linda and Patty for a drink. Your lack of ID didn’t keep you from the chance to make friends as she knew the doorman by name. That was when you mentioned the club. It was just you and your friend, Elsie. Not really a club, more so a pair of girls with nothing better to do. But Sheila liked it and the next week, she had six new girls to add to your duo.

Now, you were a full blown corps. The three seniors and at least fifteen freshmen, a few in between to fill out the circle. 

Sheila snapped her book shut and declared the end of the night as she checked her watch. 

“We’ll finish next week,” She chimed. “Granted we don’t devolve so easily again.”

The girls giggled and began to pack up. You stood and shoved your book into your leather bag. Sheila stood with Linda at the back of the circle and Patty offered a goodbye to each girl as they left. Most did so in pairs or trios. Safety in numbers.

Your dorm wasn’t far and so you would keep a brisk pace with your keys in hand. You turned and Sheila called to you before you could reach the door. You spun back and neared her and Linda.

“Hey, you need a walking partner?” She asked. “Me and Linda are head down the The Cask. We’ll be headed past yours.”

“If you’re headed that way,” You accepted eagerly.

You helped rearrange the chairs and desk with the three seniors. Patty left on her own as Sheila locked the door. You walked on her right as Linda kept to her left and made your way out of the depths of Victory Hall. The night was cool but not bitter. You pulled your collar up as you passed between the carefully trimmed hedges.

“You sure you don’t want to come for a drink?” Linda asked. “Seeing as Patty ditched us.”

“Oh, you know she has that boy waiting for her,” Sheila countered.

“Um, no, I have an early morning,” You replied. “But thanks.”

“What about next weekend?” Sheila asked.

“Next weekend?” You wondered.

“Wanna come to a party?”

“A… a senior party?” You glanced over at her as you tucked your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, no, it’s not on campus,” She trilled. “But I think you’d like it.”

“Off-campus?” You said surprised. “Really?”

“A bit of an older crowd but…” She lowered her voice, “Of a similar mind as us.”

Your eyes widened. You blinked at her and she laughed.

“Oh calm down, they’re no interlopers, merely open-minded,” She assured you. “You have to realize that this little club, that’s a children’s game. If you’re serious, these are the people you need to rub shoulders with.”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty seedy downtown and the last time--”

“Downtown?” She scoffed. “Oh, this is different from that hole in the wall.”

“Where--”

“Uptown, actually,” She preened. “You know, we do have allies with money. They hide among the enemy until we can truly act.”

“I don’t know. That sounds--”

“You worry too much. It’s not illegal to meet people who think like you do,” She said. “Otherwise us Brownies would be akin to the mob.”

You laughed at yourself and watched your scuffed shoes on the sidewalk. “I guess you’re right. Um, what kind of party is it, exactly?”

“Wear something nice,” She picked a thread from your jacket. “Fancy dress hides a humble heart.”

You nodded and gripped the strap of your bag. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged.

“I’ll see you in Lit,” She stopped just outside your gate. “I’ll give you the details then. You should ask Elsie to come with you.”

“Alright,” You breathed. “Yeah, I’ll ask her.”

“Have a good night,” She sang and Linda echoed her. 

“You, too.” You smiled.

You turned and unlocked your gate as their heels continued down the pavement. You let yourself inside and listened until there was silence. You were happy to have friends, happier that you were so much alike, but the thought of a party had your stomach aflutter.

🏰

You found your only formal dress. Rather, your most formal dress. A long-sleeved black number that flared at the knee. You wore the simple silver chain your mother gifted you for your high school graduation and a pair of kitten heels. You hugged yourself with a red shawl and grabbed your purse.

Elsie waited just outside your dorm room. She looked as nervous as you felt. The lack of details gave both of you the jitters. You were two shy girls who found each other among the sea of students. You took comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one in over your head.

And Sheila would be there too. She could help you maneuver your way through this maze of etiquette and idealism.

You took a bus as far as you could but at the last stop, you were still three blocks away from the place. Blackwood Manor. Sheila’s loopy cursive marked it on the corner of paper. _The house on the hill,_ she said, _can’t miss it._

The gates towered over you as you approached. Tinted lanterns lit the walkway and you pressed the button over the small speaker box. A dull voice greeted you from the other side.

“Um, hello,” Elsie squeezed your arm as you bent to speak into the box. “We’re here for the party.”

“Par-ty?” The voice said.

“We’re friends of, uh, Sheila.” You replied nervously.

“Ah, yes, Miss Sheila.” The crackle died and the gate clicked. 

You looked to Elsie and a man in grey neared from the other side. He pulled open the gate and removed his cap as he waited for you to enter. A car drove up, its bright headlights washed over you, as you walked up the drive and the gates man spoke with its occupants.

At the front door, you met with a man with grey hair and the same even tone that rose from the speaker. He took your shawl and Elsie’s coat and directed you to the next room. You detached Elsie from your arm and gave her a look. She smiled tensely and smoothed the front of her dress.

The sparkle of the chandelier drew your eyes first. The light refracted from the crystals and illuminated the large room. Men in suits stood around with drinks in hand and chattered. You heard the next guests enter behind you and stepped out of their way.

You spotted Sheila in the far corner, a broad pair of shoulders left her barely visible. There were several other girls you recognized; Linda. Darla and Colleen, two other Brownies, and even a couple girls from your Lit class. Every women in the room was barely that; they were all bright-eyed co-eds amid a conclave of stiff-lipped men.

You felt a chill crawl up your spine but resisted the shiver. You were just anxious about all these strangers. It was natural to be a little nervous.

Elsie followed you across the room and smiled at Sheila over the shoulder of the man she spoke to. She waved you over and the man turned to look at you. His blue eyes flicked from you to Elsie and back again. His expression was placid as he buttoned his jacket.

“Charles, these are my friends,” She introduced you and Elsie, “And this is Charles Blackwood, our host.”

He seemed to recall himself and shook your hand and then Elsie’s. His grip was firm and his expression unbreakable. He was entirely unimpressed by you and your plain black dress.

“You have a beautiful house,” You offered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so… grand.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” He said tersely as his eyes explored the room. “Sheila, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Gerald.”

“Of course,” She kissed his cheek and his lip curled before he walked away. “Sorry about him,” Sheila turned to you. “He’s a bit antsy, you know? Always is on nights like these.”

“I never…” You looked at Elsie as her eyes bounced around in wonder, “I never would think anyone who lived like this would you know, agree with us.”

“Oh, but we already know money isn’t everything,” She said. “You know, these men, they know that and they want to use their money for good. They want to make sure that students like us make it through college and go on to speak our truth to the world.”

She stopped a man passing by and took a wine glass from his tray. She offered you it and grabbed another for Elsie and herself. She batted her lashes at the waiter and returned her attention to you.

“Which is why you should loosen up and talk to some of these men,” She advised. “They are much preferable to the boys on campus and much more powerful. My second year, I had my tuition paid in full by one of Charles’ friends.”

“Wow,” Elsie gasped. “Really?”

“Consider it a grant,” Sheila explained. “Spread the wealth, right?”

“I suppose…” You uttered.

“Oh, there’s Patty,” Sheila perked up. “I knew she’d be the last one here. Pardon me a moment.”

“Alright,” You turned and watched her go as she waved over the heads to her friend. 

You brought the glass to your lips and the alcohol burned your nostrils. Your stomach turned and you lowered the flute. Elsie drank deeply as you glanced around. A man with thick silver hair and a sharp aquiline nose stared at you from across the room.

You fidgeted and slipped behind Elsie to set your glass down.

“You should take it easy,” You warned her as she gulped down the wine. 

🏰

The man with silver hair introduced himself as Harry. You weren’t fond of him as he talked of his new car and something about a cottage up north. You were confused. Sheila intimated that these people were like you; maybe not communists are heart, but left-leaning at least. They surely didn’t sound like it.

You glanced around for the umpteenth time and frowned. You didn’t see Sheila or Linda or Patty. Elsie was with a man in a striped suit, Darla and Colleen sipped from glasses as they listened to a pair of men banter, and you were stuck in the corner with this grey-haired boor.

You excused yourself, claiming to need the powder room, and walked along the wall as you searched the room. The seniors were gone. And something else caught your eye. The men drank from their stout tumblers and the women, more aptly girls, all held champagne flute. Yours was still on the table, untouched.

You neared Elsie and excused your interruption as you turned her away from her companion. You lowered your voice.

“Have you seen Sheila?” You asked.

She shook her head and wobbled. She giggled as she steadied herself with your arm. “Nope!”

“How much of that have you had?” You took her glass from her.

“This is only my…. Third,” She counted on her fingers.

“Well, I think three is enough,” You said. “Why don’t you come to the restroom with me? Splash some water on your face?”

“No, no,” She shrugged you off. “I’m talking to Gerald.” She turned back and smiled at the balding man. “He has a fellowship.”

“Elsie,” You drew her back. “Something’s… wrong.”

“What do you mean?” She hiccuped. “It’s all quite fine, isn’t it?”

“Just…” You peeked over your shoulder. “Wait here for me, okay? Don’t go anywhere else.”

She rolled her eyes and you sighed. You left her reluctantly and stopped a waiter as you neared the main archway. You asked him where the restroom was and ducked into the hallway. You passed by the foot of the staircase towards the next and paused. 

You peered around the wall and pulled back. You slipped off your heels and looked back at the room that swirled with voices. You tiptoed to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. You searched for a mechanism but there was only the intricately wrought handle. 

You went back to the stairs and listened to the buzz from the front room. You climbed a step at a time as your ears perked up at every creak and crack. You wondered what had happened to Sheila and the others. It was unlike them to leave early. And why was the door locked?

You found a window and carefully turned the latch. You shifted it up and cringed as the wood loudly rubbed together. You stuck your head out and stared down at the grass below. There was a tree not far from you, a few windows away.

“Can I help you?” The voice frightened you and you hit your head on the window as you reeled back. You turned to your host, Charles, as he leaned against the bannister.

“I was… looking for Sheila.” You lied.

“Oh, outside?” He wondered with a smirk.

“Well, no, I just needed a breath of fresh air so I thought…” Your voice trailed off as he stood straight.

“The party’s downstairs,” He said evenly. “I’m sure you just missed her.”

You stared at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief. Your heart dropped and your heels threatened to slip from your sweaty hand.

“She’s gone,” You said. His lips curved again and he chuckled. “What’s going on here?”

He inched forward as he pushed back his jacket and shoved a hand in his pocket.

“She did her job. Delivered what she promised.” He said coolly. “Can you blame her for cutting out?”

“What--” You backed up until you were against the window ledge. “I don’t understand.”

“You tried the front door, didn’t you?” 

You blinked and your shoes fell from your grasp.

“You think you can get to that tree? Even if you moved a few windows to the left?” He got closer. “Or maybe… you think you can get past me.”

Your lips parted as his features hardened. His brow twitched as he held your gaze. He didn’t look away as he knelt and grabbed your shoe. He took your foot and shoved the kitten heel on. He did the other and stood.

“Let’s go back to the party,” He growled. “It’s only just getting started.”

🏰

You stood against the wall as the room spun. Your chest was filled with doom as you looked around at the girls in their sheath dresses and chunky heels. Many shared the same glazed look as Elsie. They swayed just a little, giggled airily, and their eyelashes drooped. They were barely awake on their feet.

The man who answered the door stood beside you. He squinted at you every now and then. Charles had told him to keep an eye on you. You watched the host of the event disappear through another doorway. You thought of the invisible lock and the tree just a few windows down.

It was that crushing sense of defeat when you knew loss was imminent but unavoidable. So you watched it slowly creep forward until finally you had to submit. You shivered and shook your head at yourself. Sheila had done this. Ensnared all these girls in whatever sick game this was.

Time dragged. You watched the servers offer their tainted champagne and the girls all too ignorant to realize that something was amiss. Your eyes stung and you gripped your purse tight. Whatever was planned, it couldn’t be good.

The clinking of metal on glass silenced the room. Your eyes were drawn with every other to the other side. The men exchanged knowing looks. The girls were confused but not suspicious. They looked to Charles as he relinquished the glass and knife to a server. He grinned at his rapt audience.

“Shall we commence with our evening?” He asked; the men nodded and mumbled in agreement. The girls frowned and wavered on their feet. “Very well. Girls…”

He waved an arm to his left and the waiters, now free of their trays, dispersed to herd the girls to the other side of the room. You were led along with them and stood in the row of drunken co-eds. For a moment, you wished you had drank the wine. That you could be as oblivious as the rest.

The girl at the head of the line was ushered forward to stand beside Charles. Her red hair hung in ringlets and her cheeks were rosy with alcohol. He asked her her name and she slurred “Carrie.” He repeated it for all to hear and shouted a number. Ten thousand.

A man raised his hand and Charles called eleven thousand. Another gestured and the number went up again. Again. Again. Carrie was visibly confused as she tried to keep up. She couldn’t. She was sold for twenty-five thousand and ushered into the arms of her buyer.

Elsie was next. She could barely stand as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Eighteen thousand for the mousy-haired girl. Colleen went for about the same and Darla was in tears as she was bartered for an even twenty. 

You were near the end of the line. You marched up to the front and bit down as you stared at the bourgeois bastards. Harry was the first to bid for you. Your stomach flipped. Then another man you hadn’t even spoken to. You could see only his hand as he reached above the crowd. 

The bids bounced back and forth, Harry cursed as he wondered who was so determined to have you. You sold for forty thousand to the faceless man. You were shown out the side door by a waiter as the last girl was brought up to stand by Charles. 

You stood alone in a long dining room with a large table and more than a dozen chairs. You turned as the doors slid closed and faced the grey-haired man who had greeted you in his monotone at the door. You thought he was the help. You grimaced at him.

“You?” You sputtered.

“No,” He said blandly. “Not me.”

“Then…” You couldn’t finish as you were certain you knew the answer.

You swallowed and spun away from him. You gripped the back of a chair and placed your purse on the table. The furor from the other room reached a peak and then began to dwindle. The grey-haired man glanced at the doors.

“I must attend to the coats,” He announced. “Do not stray. He will be mad.”

You sighed as he slipped through the door. A hand kept them from closing and you watched the doorman rush away. Charles stepped through and shut the doors. He took a breath as he turned to you. He fixed his lapels as he stopped across the table from you. 

“What?” You hissed as he stared at you.

“No… thanks?” He asked.

“Thanks?” You narrowed your eyes. “For what?”

“Don’t tell me you wanted to fuck one of those old men?”

You blanched at his language and your lip curled in revulsion. He laughed.

“Don’t worry. I only need… a maid.” He smirked.

“A maid?” You wondered.

“Cooking. Cleaning.” He tapped two fingers on the table as he spoke. “They ever write about that in your books?”

Your eyes were glossy as you gulped. You were furious, frightened, and frustrated.

“You girls think you know it all,” He scoffed. “There’s a lot they don’t put in books.”

“No, there are horror stories,” You assured him. “Of repulsive monsters and their nasty ways.”

He chuckled and rounded the table. He stopped just beside you as his hand closed over your purse. He slowly lifted the strap from your shoulders and batted your hand away before you could stop him.

“Trust me,” He said as he flipped it open and looked inside. “There is no monster like me.”

🏰

You were shown to a room with a barred window. It didn’t matter as it was in the basement and so narrow that you couldn’t hope to fit through it. The door was locked but even so, there was a man without. You could see his shadow under the door and hear him cough every now and again.

You didn’t sleep much. There was a blanket on the floor beside some dusty boxes. You sat against the wall and dozed in spurts. The night replayed in your head on a loop. Then all those moments you’d spent with Sheila. How she had lied so easily. _Was she even a student?_

Didn’t matter now. The sun rose slowly through the small window and the door opened shortly after. You were given a black dress, stockings, and a pair of black shoes. Nothing else. You were taken to a shower hidden in the cellar; the water was cold and you washed quickly in the closet-like restroom.

You dressed and contemplated turning your underwear inside out. They were too worn to re-use. You left them with the rest of your clothes and emerged in your uniform. The man in black who had spent his night outside your door was mute. You weren’t sure entirely if by choice.

Your first task was to clean the main room, still dirtied from the party. The grey-haired man, Albert, told you so and recited your list of chores. The kitchen would be next and then you were to sweep the upstairs corridors and check every room in case it needed dusting or new linens.

It took you hours to tidy up after the previous nights’ guests. When the glasses were cleaned, you stacked them in the cupboards and wiped the counters. Alone, you went to the back door. It was locked too. The windows on this floor only opened two inches. You cursed.

You climbed the stairs with a broom and pan and set to the endless tedium of sweeping every corner. That took another hour, if not more. You emptied the pan downstairs in the bin and returned with a duster. 

You knocked on each door before you entered. Most were pristine and required only a touch up. When you reached the end of the next hallway, your rap was answered as the door opened from the other side. 

Charles wore only an undershirt and pants as he looked you up and down. He waved you in wordlessly. You entered and set to dusting the mantle and all its ornaments. He moved around behind you and stopped in a doorway just left of the bed.

“I expect you to do more than dust in here,” He said. “Grab some fresh linen when you get the chance.”

He slipped through the door but left it open an inch. You huffed and continued on lazily. Call it spite or your fleeting mind. You tried the window. It opened but there was no way down. You closed it and turned away.

You went to find the sheets and when you had discovered the trove of pressed and folded cotton, you returned to the room. You could hear the soft ripple of water through the small doorway. You set the sheets down at the foot of the bed. You cleared the wrinkled clothing from the chair and dropped them in the hamper.

“Girl,” Charles’ deep timbre called sternly. “Girl.”

Your cheek twitched. He knew your name. You sneered and quickly wiped it away as you neared the door. You pushed it open hesitantly as you peered through.

“Towel,” He demanded.

He sat in the deep tub, his dark hair damp and his broad chest bare above the water. You tore your eyes away and grabbed the towel from its rack. As you faced him, he stood and the water dripped down his body shamelessly. You unfolded the towel and held it up so that you could not see all of him.

“Well,” He waved you closer and snatched it from you. 

He stepped out onto the bathmat and fanned the towel around his body. You looked away quickly and a soft chuckle escaped him as he secured the towel at his waist. He passed you, his wet arm touched your sleeve and he neared the mirror as he admired his freshly shaved face.

“Did you make the bed?” He asked.

You shook your head and turned to return to the bedroom.

“Wait,” He stopped you. “That’s ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’.”

“No, sir,” You said bitterly. 

“Then you better get to it,” He rebuffed.

You swept through and moved the new sheets to the chair before you stripped the mattress. He leaned in the doorway as he watched you. You could feel him as you moved around the bed and stretched the cotton over the corners. You spread out the top sheet and replaced the quilt over top. You changed the pillowcases and fluffed them. 

Done, you bundled up the old bedding in your arm. He went to the bed and dragged his fingers along the quilt. He grasped the blankets and tore them from the mattress. 

“Tuck in the edges,” He said. “Now, fix your mistake.”

“Yes,” You gritted. “Sir.”

You dropped the old sheets in the chair once more and set to redoing your work. He stood at the foot of the bed and when you slipped past him, you felt a brush across your ass. You ignored it, content to think it was natural friction, and carried on. You could feel the heat of his gaze upon you and as you faced him, it was confirmed.

“Very nice,” He commented. “You learn… quickly.”

“Quicker than the others?” You asked. “Huh? How many have you bought? What did you do to them?”

“Oh, you’re mistaken,” He said. “I’m not a buyer, I’m a seller… but well, I decided to indulge myself last night.”

Your mouth was dry. You turned and grabbed the linen again. As you backed up, you were stopped by a figure behind you. His arm stretched out around you and he held his towel out. Slowly, he released it and it flapped to the floor.

“You don’t learn that quick though,” He mused as his hand settled on your shoulder. “You think I would spend that much money on a maid.” His fingers crawled along your neck. He gripped your jaw as he pressed himself against you. You felt the prod of his arousal through your skirt. “But it was fun to watch you try.”

“Why me?” You breathed as he gripped your arms and pulled them away from the laundry. The bundle fell to the chair and drooped down onto the floor.

“Because you’re the first to figure it out,” He answered. 

“Please,” You begged weakly as he pulled your arms back and rolled his hips so that he poked you.

“Get on the chair.” He ordered.

Your breath caught in your throat. You stood staring at the yellow wallpaper with its golden lilies. You turned slightly and he caught you. 

“No, don’t turn around.” His voice sent a shiver through you.

Your lip trembled and you lifted a knee, then the other. His hands ran up your arms and around your back. He shoved you so you caught yourself against the back of the chair. You tensed as his hands fell to your hips and over your ass.

He squeezed and stepped between your ankles so that his legs were against the seat. He ran his hands down your thighs and kneaded through the skirt. He reached the hem and slowly raised it an inch at a time. When it was higher than your stockings, your hand flew back to stop him.

He grabbed your wrist and twisted until you cried out.

“If you scream, there’s no one here who will care,” He snarled. “And they certainly won’t help you.”

He pushed your hand away and tore your skirt up over your ass. He slapped you so hard you yelped. You could feel the heat of his palm across your ass even after it was gone. He bunched your skirts around your waist and hummed in approval.

“You look nice in black,” He said, “Better out of it.”

You kept your eyes forward. You couldn’t have looked at him if you wanted. This man, this stranger, was touching you like no one had before. And he meant to do more. Because he owned you.

His hand snaked around your hip and down your pelvis. He tickled the hair there and slid lower. You tried to press your thighs together but your ankles hit his legs. He tutted and leaned against you.

“I’m being nice,” He warned. “I don’t have to be.”

You grabbed his hand and shoved it away. He struck your ass again as he stood straight. He grasped the back of your neck and pushed your head down against the back of the chair. Your fingers clutched at the cushion beside your face as he held you there.

“I told you last night,” He pinched your thigh. “I can be the worst fiend you’ve ever known.”

He pushed his knees up on the chair between yours. His fingers crawled around your hip again and along your pelvis. He pushed two down along your folds. He rubbed your bud with his middle finger as he spread your lips. He flicked and teased until your hips bucked.

“Not so bad…” He purred. “Am I?”

“Stop,” You begged as his grip tightened on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t just let you go,” He said. “That’d be a poor investment. Even you could see that.”

He dipped his finger inside of you and you inhaled sharply. He drew it in and out and added another. Your thighs shook and your fingers bent against the cushion.

“You don’t realize how fucking lucky you got,” He pushed his palm to your clit as he rocked his hand. “Those other men; old men, they’d fuck you for two seconds before they blew. Leave you there, unsatisfied, discarded. The girls never last long.”

He curled his fingers and moved his hand faster.

“The men get bored. Naturally, they’re greedy,” His nose tickled your ear as his breath glossed over your cheek. “Or maybe the girl gets pregnant. No good. Send her away. Don’t care where, just don’t want to hear about her ever again.” 

He nuzzled your hair as your breaths grew laboured. You found it hard to resist the heat that radiated from his touch. You shook as you tried to force the ripples back down.

“So, you keep me happy, girl,” He sneered. “And you might just last.”

You squealed as you came. You were ashamed and astounded. You’d never felt so… much. Never felt anything so deeply. You quivered around his hand and he slowly drew away and wiped his wet fingers on your bunched up skirt.

He reached between your thighs and you felt his length rub against your ass. He teased you and dragged his fingers along your ass. He pressed his tip to your skin and guided it down. He squeezed your neck and you whimpered. He pushed against your entrance and paused.

“You’re not…” He began and thrust inside of you all at once. “Well, it doesn’t really matter.”

Your walls ached as he filled you. The pain was nothing compared to relief that washed over you. You hadn’t realized how much you longed for that feeling. His hand slid from your neck and he gripped your shoulder. His other went to your hip and he rocked his hips.

You grunted as he thrust. You wanted it to end but you also didn’t want him to stop. He was relentless and impatient. You expected little else from the steely man. You quaked as his pelvis slapped against your ass. The noise echoed off the corners of the room, interspersed with his low groans and you pathetic mewls.

He moved your body against his as he plunged deeper and deeper. He sped up, driven by your helpless moans as you clawed at the upholstered chair. You wanted to get away as much as you just wanted to grab onto something steady. You turned your head back and forth as your nerves flared. You shook and gasped as you came again.

“St-st-stop,” You pleaded. “Stop. It’s too--”

He slammed into you so hard you shrieked. He didn’t let up as he crushed you against the back of the chair. He snaked his hand up in front of you and groped your tit as his other arm wrapped around your neck. His thick muscle choked you as he pounded into you and the chair creaked dangerously. You trembled as the ripples washed over you and you skin tingled with the heat of the man behind you.

His thrusts turned sharp and furious. His arm tightened around your neck as he pulled his other hand back. He pushed into as far as he could, holding himself there for just a second each time. His heavy breaths were like hungry growls in your ear.

He pulled out of you suddenly and you felt his knuckles against your ass as they moved frantically. A warmth spurted along your lower back and his hand slowed. 

He sighed and unhooked his arm from around your neck. He climbed off the chair and smacked your ass again. It stung so much you were certain there was already a bruise.

“Clean yourself up.” He demanded as he sat on the bed heavily. “Then take that damn dress off.”


End file.
